Thursday, September 5, 2019

A Memory

It’s the little things I don’t expect,
like the smell of a Dutchman Cigar
that can take me back decades ago
to the river bank beneath the stars.

Your favorite spot you called ‘the Rock’,
where a boulder sat proud and alone,
which we kids would try to climb and sit
 like little fisher kings on our throne.

Mom sat on her blanket and watched us
till the blue-sky gave way to the night
and you lit the kerosene lantern
to keep away our childhood fright.

Relaxed, you’d sit in your fishing chair,
rod and reel in in your self-made holder,
talking to mom while watching us climb
and push each other off the boulder.

Sometimes, when your cigar was half done
You’d give us kids that sideways smirk
and give it a toss, then have a laugh
as you watched us dive into the dirt.

The first time, mom roared, but now resigned
She’d shake her head watching us search
and let the finder take a few puffs,
or finish it off, what could it hurt?

Sometimes we’d fish in almost silence,
told that we would scare the fish away.
But now that I am older, I know,
you just needed some quiet that day.

We’d clear away trash, or gather wood,
to roast some hotdogs, and make some smores,
Then listen as Hank Williams Junior
sing us to sleep on that river shore.

I will never smell a Cigar’s smoke
or hear a Hank Williams Junior’s tune
without thinking back, happy, yet sad
to all of my memories of you. 


Saturday, August 3, 2019

Hemlock


     On the outskirts of the city lay a small town with more churches than businesses. On a good day, most folks just blew through the town using the county road. On a better day, they bypassed it completely by using the old State road that lay just outside of town. Most people in the city didn’t even know there was a town just a couple miles away, and people driving through it only knew it was there because of the green town sign along the road. It was the simple green sign used to denote a town, and nothing more. No ‘Welcome to Hemlock’, or ‘The town of Hemlock welcomes you’, or even a name sign with a population.
     On the outskirts of Hemlock, on the last intersection before the small gathering of homes gave way to fields and woods, lay the old Albright’s Convenience store. It had been a place where people could walk to grab an ice cold coke on a slow hot day, or where folks could grab a couple cases of cold beer on the weekend during a beer run when they were not exactly sober. Old man Albright never called the law, and he reaped the rewards when he upsold items to the drunks coming in.
     When old man albright passed away, he left the store to his son, who sold it to the first person to offer cash, and fled as far from Hemlock as possible. The guy that bought it didn’t even live in Hemlock, and the lack of pride or upkeep with his rental properties reflectected it. 
     The new owner attempted to run the store, but ended up just running it into the ground. The ridiculous increase in prices, and the subsequent rise of shoplifting made him just shut it down. Rather than cut his losses and sell the property to someone else, he gutted it, threw in a half-hearted bathroom and kitchen, and rented it for as much as he could convince people to rent it.
     Some seasonal worker families crammed in occasionally, and some desperate junkies hoarded together for the winter a couple times. Every time, the landlord would use threats of informing the law on the residents in order to get what he wanted. He’d get extra money, free labor, occassional sex, and people to move his merchandise. 
     Some residents pointed to the glorified slumlord as the reason why things were ‘going downhill’ in Hemlock. Some of the older families called it quits and moved from the area, hoping to save their children from the flood of Opiates floating around town from the half boarded up houses. Those that stayed often prayed for their community, but it was a losing battle. Everytime one junkie was finally picked up by police, a few more moved in to take their place. 
                                  ~
     Jamie knew nothing of the history of Hemlock, its apparent bleak future, or even the history of her home. All she knew was that her stomach hurt, and she was hungry. Momma was still sleeping on the couch where she had been for most of the day. 
     Before she went to sleep, momma had filled two bowls with Cheerios and three sippy cups with kool aid and set them down in front of the cartoons. 
     The cartoons had gone off.
     Her cheerios were gone.
     She looked at momma. The no stick was still in her arm, and momma had made sure to drive the rule home that Jamie was not to go near the no sticks. Jamie had cried for the longest time, and her hand was sore for the rest of the day after momma smacked it when she picked up a no stick one day.
     Jamie did not like the no sticks, and not just because of the memory of the pain in her hand the last time she touched one. She didn’t like how momma fell asleep everytime momma played with one. Sometimes momma had friends over, and they all took turns with the no stick. The last one always dangled it from their arm until they woke up again, or were carried outside. 
      The thought to cry until momma woke up popped into her head, but she knew momma wouldn't like that at all. The last time she tried that, momma had been so mad. No, she would just wait till momma woke up. Whenever that would be. 
     She took a drink out of her last cup. It was almost gone. Usually Momma was awake again before all the cartoons were off, and would get something to eat. She would shuffle into the kitchen almost like the mummies in Scooby Doo and put something together. It wasn’t like the food that was at Grammy’s, but at least it was something. 
     As if agreeing with this thought, her stomach grumbled. She downed the last of her juice, and looked back to the TV where people were arguing in a room. She didn’t know what they were yelling about, but at least they weren’t hitting each other. She hugged her stuffed unicorn, Mr. Sparkles, tighter against her grumbling stomach, and tried to make sense of the people were yelling. 
                                 ~
     Momma’s cell phone rang again. She could see Grammy’s face on the screen, and as much as she wanted to slide the green circle, she knew momma would be upset that she had touched her phone while she was sleeping. After Grammy’s face disappeared, the phone chirped as it had done the last few times she had called, and then lay silent. 
     Jamie watched momma for a moment as she slept. She had fallen asleep like that a few times before. Sitting on the couch, leaning against the armrest, with a small pillow as a cushion. Jamie thought for a moment before walking to her room and grabbing her blanket off the bed. When she had fallen asleep on the couch, momma always gave her a blanket to cover up and keep warm while she slept. Momma would be so proud of her that she remembered to do the same for her. 
     Jamie took momma her favorite blanket. It was her Unicorn Blanket. It had a bright white unicorn with long flowing pink hair that was flapping in the wind around a sparkling golden horn that had purple glitter on it. Jamie and momma had named her Bessie, after Grammy and Pappap’s pony Bess on their farm. 
     Jamie climbed onto the couch and pulled Bessie up her momma, careful not to get near the arm with the no stick, and tucked it in around her neck. She then gently kissed momma’s cheek just like Momma always did for her, and smiled. Momma would be very happy she had brought in Bessie to cover her up. She felt so cold.
     Jaimie looked at the window as she climbed down from the couch. The sun was fading, and it made her almost as sad as she was hungry. Momma had said they would walk to the park today, but with it getting dark, she knew it was almost bedtime. Momma was going to wake up just in time to put her to sleep. She sat back down in front of the TV where people were driving cars really fast. Maybe momma would make her a snack before she had to go to bed. 
                                ~
     The headlights of the car splashed across the walls through the window, and lit up the room. Jamie’s heart pounded in her chest, she grabbed Mr. Sparkles, and ran over to momma to shake her. Momma might yell about her being too close to the no stick, but she was more scared of whoever came with the lights. She still wouldn’t wake up.  She looked over to the door, as she heard the first knock. Momma had put the extra bar on the door before she was playing with the no stick. Momma said she did it to keep out the ‘Bad guys’. Jamie thought that some of Momma’s friends were bad guys because of the way they yelled at each other. One had even hit momma. Pappap hadn’t been too happy about that when he found out. When momma had taken Jamie to the farm the day after the man had hit her, Pappap went red in the face, and went inside. When he came back out, he was stuffing something black into his belt. 
     As he started pulling away in his truck, making a cloud of black smoke from the exhaust, and spraying gravel everywhere, Momma had yelled at him to stop. Grammy was crying a little, but she didn’t yell. She just started to carry Jamie inside the house, asking if she wanted something to eat. Before they had walked through the door, she heard Pappap yell from his truck that he was going to ‘Teach that boy a lesson’. Jamie never figured out what lesson it was, because the man who hit momma never came back to their home. 
     After the second knock, Jamie ran to her room and threw herself into the closet, pulling the door almost completely shut behind her. She wanted to keep it cracked a little in case Momma woke up and started to look for a place to hide with her. Jamie burrowed deeper into the closet as the knocking on the door turned into pounding.There was a voice outside the door, yelling something, but between the tv and the pounding, Jamie didn't know what they were yelling. She clung tight to Mr. Sparkles and strained to hear. She could feel herself begin to cry, but tried to stop as she wiped her tears away. She would show momma that she wasn’t scared. Or at least, she wouldn’t show her that she was.
     Jamie felt like she had been in the closet forever before the pounding and the yelling stopped. She peeked out the crack in the closet door to see that the house was no longer filled with the light from the window. The light from the TV screen was once again the only source of light in the house. She looked towards the old Paw Patrol lamp on the table by her bed, and thought about turning it on, so at least she would have some light while she hid. However, she did not want anyone to know where she was in case they had snuck in. Momma had told her once that some people were sneaky, and she couldn’t trust them.
     Grammy and Pappap were different, though, Jamie knew. They always had surprises, and fun things to do. They didn’t act like any of momma’s friends did. They never yelled at her, or grabbed at her...or anything else. Grammy and Pappap would hug on her, and kiss on her, and give her the best cookies and chocolate milk before bed time. She loved their farm, and the animals, and her room there. 
     Not to mention that they never had any no sticks there.  
     Jamie stepped out of the closet, holding Mr. Sparkles close, and walked over to momma. She had slept through the whole thing. Looking over to the window, Jamie could see nothing but dark, and could only hear the voices on the TV. Now that her fear had left her, her stomach reminded her that she was hungry. Maybe momma wouldn’t mind if she tried to find a snack of her own. Maybe she would even be proud of her for being a big girl and getting something for herself while letting momma sleep. She was using her potty chair like a big girl, just like mommy taught her, maybe she could make food like a big girl. 
     With that exciting thought in her mind, she went off to the kitchen to see what she could find. 
                                   ~
     She woke with a start. The was more pounding and yelling, and the entire house seemed to glow with lights. The bright white lights as before, but also a bright red and blue swept through the house as it blinked. Mr. Sparkles was sitting by the open bag of potato chips they had devoured before they had fallen asleep.
     Before she could grab him and stand up, there was a loud boom against the door. She squealed and dove to Mr. Sparkles. As she turned to go towards momma, there was another boom, and the bar that momma propped under the door knob flew back and clanked against the floor as the door burst open. 
     She froze as the room house was filled with so much light she almost didn't see the dark shapes of people rushing in at her. Several stopped at momma, but she screamed as one of them came directly for her, picked her up, and started to take her outside. 
     “Momma! Momma!”
     She fought against the shadow man as she reached out, screaming for momma to wake up and save her. The man held on to her, firmly, but gently. 
     “Shhhh...shhh ...its ok, little one,” he said softly. “I have someone who wants to see you.”
     “Jamie!”
     Jamie stopped struggling, and spun around in the shadow man’s arms. Eyes adjusting to the lights, she saw Grammy and Pappap by their truck behind what she now saw were police cars. Grammy ran forward and grabbed her from the man’s arms. Jamie saw his badge as he turned to run back into her home. Grammy and Pappap held onto her, kissed her, and stroked her hair, as she stared out over the cars and flashing lights, watching as the shadows seemed to dance in them. 
     Grammy took her to sit in the truck, and pulled out her phone and let Jamie play with the Angry Birds. Jamie looked up at Grammy after a moment of playing, and saw her staring out the window at Pappap, whose hands were on his hips and head bowed down.  Jamie snuck a peek towards the house where police and some others were still coming in and out, and Grammy gasped and started crying when they pulled a long table out with a blanket on it. Pappap fell to his knees, shoulders shaking, which cause Grammy to start to cry louder. Jamie didn’t recognize the table though, and she didn't know why everyone was so upset to see it. They never had one with wheels on it. She wondered if Momma had it hidden in a closet, and if that is why the policemen were there. 
     As Grammy started to cry harder, she pulled Jamie into her arms and squeezed her tightly. Briefly, Jamie could smell cookies on Grammy’s shirt, and she wondered if Momma was going to wake up so they could go have a snack at the farm. 
                                    ***

Monday, July 22, 2019

Tomorrow

My father sat in his chair on the porch,
watching the kids run around in the grass.
He sat watching them, smiling
as they laughed and screamed while running past.

I thought to myself, get a picture
of him surrounded by the kids
but I didn’t want to interrupt their play
and now I wish I did.

Tomorrow, I thought, is the party
I’ll get a picture of them then
but moments later, he had a seizure
now I won’t get the chance again.

He gave a sound that will haunt my mind
until the very day I die
and then he slumped into his chair;
the kids began to cry.

We called for help,
and did our best to keep him alive
but I failed that crucial moment
and I watched my father die.

My father taught me many things,
and one last lesson with his last breath:
‘Tomorrow is never guaranteed,
remember today, and remember death.’

I should strive to pack in daily
what should be done each and every day
from hugs, and pictures, and I love Yous
ensuring great memories are made.

By casting away tomorrow,
and making a full life of today,
perhaps my kids won’t share my remorse
over things that I meant to say.

Conversations left not started,
not finished, and vital words not said…
Offering me nothing left
but a crushing sense of guilt and regret.

I can’t tell him what I needed him to know
I can’t ask him what I need to know.
and all because, like that picture,
I thought I’d do it tomorrow

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Therapy

Drunk.
My aim
As I drink
Beer after beer
Seeking out that fog
To steal away the thoughts
That are causing me to drink;
So that I can not feel the pain
That twists in my gut like a dull knife
Twisting fast and furiously though its
Blunted at the edge and rusted through...
With this fog can I find relief...
So I seek that merciful mist
In whatever bottled brew
That I may find close by
And so wash away
What I feel now
If only
For a
Spell.

Monday, June 10, 2019

Ode to Taco Bell

I thought it air, 
I gave a push
and molten shart
shot from my tush
I clenched my cheeks,
Alas! Too late…
The dam, once burst,
I could not abate!
Like a duck I waddled
to the closest loo
The shat then spread 
as liquid shats do.
I waddled quick,
but the shat ran down
My pants, white khaki
Now streaked with brown.
A line of shat
left a telling trail
in my wake
to tell the tale:
One of misplaced faith,
a poor fool’s blunder-
How I ruined my day
and blew my skivvies usunder.

Monday, April 15, 2019

Holy Week

I sit in horror as I watch the flames
dancing around as they lick at her stones…
The smoke billowing from her sacred  bones…
Paris…the West…will never be the same.
And in the city streets, the moslems cheer
Declaring their bloodthirsty god is great
And that the infidels deserved this fate!
While all of France weeps, the moslems just sneer.
Suspicious, a fire on Holy Week...
I can’t help but wonder what they will say
To try to make the outrage go away...
Will we ever find the truth that we seek?
What scapegoat will they find to take the blame
For the fire they set at Notre Dame?

Thursday, April 11, 2019

Rest Stop

I stopped by a rest area today,
Even though it took me out of my way.
I sat in the lot a moment or two,
Not really sure what I wanted to do.
Eventually, I just walked around
Taking in all of the sights and sounds.
I found a wooden bench by a old tree
Surrounded by flowers and buzzing bees.
And I sat down there, and I closed my eyes.

Memories swirled in my mind like a mist
Of times when we stopped at places like this
To rest, to play, stretch our legs or eat,
Or just to explore: a traveler's treat!
We’d talk to other folks on their own trips
Forming fast, yet fleeting, sort of friendships.
As all these memories around me swirled,
I opened my eyes, fell back to the world,
The present one...and I sat there and cried.

I sat on that bench near all afternoon.
Though I knew I needed to be going soon,
I couldn’t really bring myself to leave
When this patch of land was helping me grieve…
Finally, when I could no longer stay,
Without a good excuse for my delay,
I walked slowly back to get to the lot,
Abandoning there some of the pain I brought,
Finally feeling as though we’ve said bye.



1